


Wild is the Wind

by Flames_and_Jade



Series: Only One For Me - Peterick OTP Prompts Repository [7]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Best Friends, Feels, Fluff, M/M, cuteness, david bowie on the stereo, hugs and dancing, patrick has a frustrating day, pete takes care of patrick, toe-curling mushyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/pseuds/Flames_and_Jade
Summary: It had been one of those days where nothing went right. It wasn't like his car got broken into or his mom died...nothing necessarily *bad* happened. It was just annoying, frustrating, a tad off kilter...and he couldn't wait for it to be done. All Patrick wanted was peace.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace/gifts).



> This is a gift for my lovely friend, who is having a less than spectacular couple of days. I can't fix it for you dear, but I can write you some fluff!! Hope things look up for you <3 This is unbeta'd, because I wanted to surprise her, so all mistakes are mine.

 

 

Coming to a full and complete stop at the final stoplight before turning into their neighborhood, Patrick heaved a sigh and leaned his head down on the steering wheel. It had been _the world’s longest day._ Everything just seemed like it was out to be difficult—not bad, not hard, just ridiculous. He had spilled just a bit of coffee on his shirt and while it wasn’t horribly noticeable, it bothered him. He had knocked over his cup of pens at the studio all over the soundboard, and the bathroom had been out of paper towels so his hands had been clammy for a while. He had searched all over the studio (actually several studios) for his capo and had found it in his guitar case—exactly where it was supposed to be. He had tried to cheer himself up by going to his favorite cafe for lunch, only to find that there was a retirement party there and it would have taken forever to get food…so he settled on a bag of sun chips and a green tea. After that, nothing had quite worked in the studio on the track he was producing, but he just kept going at it until he was frustrated even though he knew it was trash…so he had given up feeling like he had wasted his time and starving to boot. There had been an accident on the 101 freeway, leaving Patrick tense and grouchy and cursing the fact that they lived in Los Angeles. It had just been _one of those days._

 

Finally the light turned green, and he turned down their street and pulled into the driveway. He leaned back in the seat as he stared at their foot door—it was painted an azure blue color that Pete had loved. He took a deep breath and headed inside, not sure why he even felt this way. It was… _ambivalence._ The stress that hummed through his veins all day had left him drained and tired and grouchy and he hoped Pete wouldn’t be…well, very _Pete_ tonight. Normally his boyfriend’s special brand of crazy didn’t bother him because it was so divergent from his own. But tonight, he felt like he just needed peace and silence and _calm._

 

The way the car beeped seemed inordinately loud and annoying for some reason, and he couldn’t help the scowl that worked its way across his face. _Stupid day, stupid track, stupid traffic._ The key stuck in the lock and he growled in frustration, wiggling it around furtively until the tumblers freed and the key turned. Dropping his bag by the door, he shucked off his shoes and kicked them under the entry table, pushing down the twinge of guilt at his messiness. 

 

He padded in his stocking feet into the living room and fell on the couch in a huff. It looked like Pete had been sitting there but now the space was vacant. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back and he took a deep breath. 

 

Warm arms wrapped around him and soft lips pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before dropping to nuzzle into his neck. 

 

“Hey baby.” 

 

Patrick sighed contentedly as Pete squeezed a bit and then let go. He looked up as Pete sat down next to him and then gasped delightedly as he shoved a plate into his hands.

 

“Oh my gosh, is this from that Himalayan place we went last week!?” Pete nodded with a huge smile across his face as Patrick dug in with gusto. The noodles were spiced perfectly and the tofu fried just right—in short, it was heaven. 

 

“Charlie called me and said that you had a bad day, so I figured you needed a pick-me-up.” Patrick sighed happily and leaned against him, stuffing the food into his mouth and humming is thanks. Pete pulled him close and Patrick closed his eyes as the spices danced on his tongue and settled in his stomach, and for the first time that day it felt like _something_ was going right. Pete didn’t say much as he ate, letting him enjoy his meal. Patrick tried to give him some, but he wrinkled his nose like a five year old and shook his head. “Tofu is gross dude.” Patrick shrugged and mumbled something like _your loss, idiot_ but continued munching happily until he had eaten it all. 

 

Pete took the empty plate and whispered _stay here_ and Patrick felt himself tense up a bit as his boyfriend disappeared. He had a thing for surprises and lulling Patrick into a false sense of security. But then the stereo clicked on and Pete returned, pulling him to his feet and into his arms as David Bowie started to sing. 

 

_Love me, love me, love me, say you do_

_Let me fly away with you_

_For my love is like the wind, and wild is the wind_

_Wild is the wind_

_Give me more than one caress, satisfy this hungriness_

_Let the wind blow through your heart_

_For wild is the wind, wild is the wind_

 

Slowly they danced around the living room, if you could call it dancing. Everyone knew that Patrick was the only one in their relationship who had any sense of timing with his body…and that was generally only when he was rather drunk. But it didn’t matter that Pete had two left feet and Patrick had no rhythm left in his body from the day. Pete’s arms were firm and held him close like an anchor in choppy seas and Patrick could smell the familiar scent that was so uniquely _Pete—_ aftershave, pizza grease, and cedar and something else he never could quite name. He laid his head on Pete’s shoulder, and sighed contentedly as the music wafted around them. 

 

_You touch me_

_I hear the sound of mandolins_

_You kiss me_

_With your kiss my life begins_

_You're spring to me, all things to me_

_Don't you know, you're life itself!_

 

Gently, Pete nudged his face up to meet his own, and Patrick looked into whiskey eyes with their familiar honey flecks, with just a hint of green around the edge. They were warm and safe and everything he ever wanted to look into, everything he needed to feel home. Then Pete dipped his head and pressed a soft kiss to his lips and they both sighed into it, breaths mingling and filling the other’s lungs. Warmth flooded Patrick from the top of his head to the soles of his still-sock-covered feet, and he decided the day wasn’t worth burning after all. Pete pulled away and gave him a small smile—one he knew only he got to see. He smiled back, and laid his head back on Pete’s shoulder.

 

_Like the leaf clings to the tree_

_Oh, my darling, cling to me_

_For we're like creatures of the wind, and wild is the wind_

_Wild is the wind_

 

When the song ended, Pete pressed a final kiss to his lips and murmured _go to bed, I’ll lock up and be right there._ With the strains of his favorite musician floating through his head, Patrick simply nodded and went, still floating on the peaceful cloud of David Bowie’s voice. He brushed his teeth and slipped on pajamas. He had just finished up and was moving to the bed when Pete reappeared. Wordlessly, he guided Patrick to the bed. They crawled in and Patrick thought this was when Pete would tell him how horny he was, would paw at his favorite batman pajama bottoms. But instead, he just pressed a kiss to his forehead and motioned for Patrick to roll onto his stomach and then straddled his hips. 

 

“Umm, Pete, what—“

 

“Shhh.” Pete’s hands came to his shoulders and started rubbing, fingers skillfully massaging out the tension of the day. Patrick moaned in a way that would have been positively _sinful_ if Pete had been straddling him for other reasons. But Pete just chuckled and continued, thumbs digging into the tightly bundled muscles, smoothing out the knots and turning tension into a buttery pile of relaxation. Patrick sighed and simply enjoyed it—groaning occasionally but relishing the feel of Pete’s hands on him. Taking his time, Pete worked down from his neck and shoulders, to his lower back and then down to his ass cheeks. _Here it comes_ Patrick thought, but Pete simply continued with his massage, digging the heels of his palms into the meat of Patrick’s ass cheeks and making him moan. “I read that you actually carry a lot of tension in your butt.” Pete’s voice held no teasing bent, no salacious hint, and Patrick sighed with how good it felt, the way it seemed to unlock the rest of the muscles in ways he didn’t even know he needed. 

 

Finally finished, Pete laid down gently on top of Patrick, cocooning his back with his body and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. He rolled off, and Patrick opened his eyes to look at his best friend expectantly.

 

“That was amazing.” 

 

“Good.” Pete’s smile was fond, full of tenderness and something that almost looked like pride but was closer to contentment. 

 

“Do you want me to—“ Patrick started to offer, feeling slightly guilty that Pete had made him feel so boneless and relaxed and gotten nothing in return. But Pete merely shook his head and brought a finger up to cover Patrick’s lips. 

 

“Nope. This was for you.” He moved his finger away and caressed Patrick’s cheek softly, like he was a china cup. “ _Just_ for you.” 

 

A warm feeling blossomed in Patrick’s chest as he nodded, silently acknowledging Pete’s intent. He was giving Patrick the gift of a good meal, a beautiful song, and _peace._ Peace in his body, peace in his heart, and peace in his mind after the madness of the day. He felt like his body was made of cement and velvet as he rolled to his side and opened his arms. Pete nestled in, fitting against Patrick and filling all the spaces—warm and solid and perfect. Patrick pressed a kiss to the top of his head as he thought how lucky he was to be with someone who knew him. Who knew when he was having a bad day, who knew exactly how to make him feel better, who cared enough to ask for nothing in return but a smile.  

 

“Thank you.”  

 

Pete’s hand snaked around his waist, pulling him just that much closer, and he felt him exhale long and slow. 

 

“Anytime.” 

 

They fell asleep cocooned in blankets and arms and bodies, wrapped in the peace that they only found together.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this OTP Prompt: "Imagine your OTP slow dancing to David Bowie after a tiring day. Person A rests their head on B’s shoulder while Person B softly hums the lyrics."
> 
> Credit where credit is due--
> 
> Prompt: http://otp-lifestyle.tumblr.com/post/151359532476/otprompt-imagine-your-otp-slow-dancing-to-david
> 
> Title/Lyrics: "Wild is the Wind" by the oh-so-talented David Bowie


End file.
